Knight Fall (The Champion Chronicles Book 1) (20 page)

“My home is my village," Conner said.  "In the forest.  It has been and always will be.  This place here is not for me.  I don't belong here.” 

Goshen let out a grunt and was silent for several moments.  Then he asked, “You did not find your princess in the forest?”

“Uh, no,” Conner replied with a puzzled look.  "I found her."

“You found Princess Elissa in the forest, but you did not find your princess,” Goshin said.  The blank look on Conner's face put a smile on the old sword master’s face.  “She is growing up and will have less and less time for her friends.  Even those that she likes.”

“She did not even act like she liked me," Conner said.  "I thought we were friends.”

“You must understand that she is a princess which is much more than a name.  She has duties to perform and she must uphold her status to the kingdom.”

“But I am also her champion,” Conner argued.

“She has no need of a champion," Goshin declared as softly as he could.  "Every knight in the kingdom would give their life for her.  The royal guard as well.  There are more than enough swords in this castle to protect her.  And soon, a husband will be found for her, and he will become her true champion.”

An anger began to grow from deep inside.  “But I am her champion!” Conner exclaimed loudly.  “We made a promise and the king even declared me her champion!”

Goshin stepped forward and gripped Conner by the shoulders.  “Then be one!”

Conner shrugged the hands away.  “I cannot be her champion when I cannot fight!  You make me use my left hand, and I cannot fight that way.  I have trained and trained with my swords, and you will not let me use them!”

Goshin took a step back, and looked over his pupil thoughtfully.  He saw the anger that was still inside.  He saw a young man desperately trying to break out of the shell that he was in.  He trained him as he knew how.  As he knew best.   As a Sak’hurai.  But Conner was not Sak’hurai, nor would he ever be.  He could be better, though.  But only if he was allowed to be.

“You are right,” Goshin said.  He bowed his head in shame.  “I was wrong.”

Conner, sensing that maybe he had come on too strong and was too harsh with his master, said.  “No, you were right to teach me to use my left hand.  It is just time to show everyone.  To show Princess Elissa that I can be her champion.  That I am worthy.”

“You do not need to prove your worth.  Your worth is from who you are and what you do.  The moment you try and prove your worth to someone is the moment that you tell them that you are better than them.  Do not do that.  Do not be arrogant in your worth.”

Conner smiled a wry smile.  “Are you still trying to teach me ways of the Sak’hurai?”

Goshin’s face was hard as a stone.  “No.  That is more than Sak’hurai.  That is the way of being a man.  You must choose now.  Go now or stay.  But if you stay, then you cannot choose to go again when things don’t go your way.  That is also the way of being a man.  You must be committed regardless of what happens.”

Conner nodded.  “I will stay.”

Goshin gave Conner a quick bow.  "Yes.  Of course.  But you must still train."

Conner let out a moan.  He was beat.  He could barely stand.  Longingly, he looked at his bed.

"Very well," Goshin said.  "You may rest.  But tomorrow, you work twice as hard."

Conner gave a slight nod of thanks before dropping onto his bed and falling into a deep sleep.

Chapter Fifteen

Marik gently touched the rocky path, his hands scanning the stones and rocks scattered about.  There were a couple deep gouges, which could have been anything.  But his trained eyes told him that they were caused by the struggle of a horse trying to keep from falling into the deep chasm.  A stream had cut itself a path deep into the mountain, creating the deep chasm that seemed to be bottomless.  But Marik knew better.  He had spent many long months in the mountains scouting and doing…other things.  Right here, next to the trail, the drop-off was steep and deadly.  If anything fell here, it was a long way down with seemingly no way out.

Although it was steep, if one knew how to maneuver down the side of the cliff, it was not difficult.  Marik had done this before, many times.  Keeping his feet in front of him, and his weight as far back towards the cliff face as he could, he started sliding down.  It was mostly loose gravel, making the going fast, but not too dangerous.  He used his hands to control his descent, digging into the cliff face when he felt himself going too fast.  Before he expected it, his feet struck the ground, catching himself off balance.  He tumbled forward, face first into the slow running stream that had spent an eon cutting into the mountain.

The smell hit him first and he had to force himself to keep from throwing up his lunch.  Covering his face with the crook of his elbow, he looked over the dead horse.  It had certainly once been a knight’s mount.  But now the poor beast was half devoured, its entrails strewn across the ground.  The saddle was still in place, but there was nothing else.  No body, no sword, no armor.  Starting at the carcass, Marik scouted the area in an expanding circle, looking for any sign of Brace.  He finally found one on the other side of the bank.  A small tree had been cut down, its branches cut off from the main trunk and left on the ground.  There were some dark stains on some of the larger rocks that could have been blood.  After another hour of searching, he finally picked up the trail.  It led upstream, deeper into the mountains, and towards the northern border of the kingdom.

He touched a partial boot print and said softly into the wind, “I am on your trail, my friend, and you are alive.  I will catch up to you.  I promise you that.”

***

Brace jumped down from the embankment.  He had been slipping and sliding most of the last ten feet and rather than fall on his face, he jumped.  Although he tried to land only on his good leg, he still came down on his bad leg.  He let out a sharp shout as the pain shot up from his foot and through his spine.  He hopped for two steps, trying to maintain his balance.  But the pain was too much and he collapsed to the ground.  Brace wanted to cry.  It was a pain that he had never experienced before, far beyond any of the slices and stabs that he had endured during his tenure as a knight.  He tried to let the pain go away through willpower.  With eyes closed, he slowed his breathing, trying to calm it away.  But it would not go away.

Finally, he slammed his fists on the ground and let out a loud shout.

Mirfar had been leading the way, and at the sound of Brace’s outburst, he turned.  “We will rest here,” the Thellian nomad declared. 

Bellock was still at the top of the last hill, trailing them with the pack of food and supplies on his back.  He easily slid down the embankment into what had once been a stream that ran at the base of the mountain.  He dropped his packs onto the ground and started to unpack some of the supplies to prepare their lunch.

Mirfar leaned down and studied the leg.  “It is not swollen,” he said with an encouraging smile.

“What does that mean?” Brace asked.

“If it were swollen and red, hot to the touch, then infection would have set in, and death would soon follow.  The wound is healing, but the leg, the bones, I am afraid, are not healing well.”

“I can stand the pain,” Brace said.  “Until it is fully healed.”

“You are a brave man, Brace Hawkden," Mirfar said.  "But I wonder if some of the bravery is really stubbornness.  We have been traveling for two days when you should have been resting.”

“I will rest when I am dead,” Brace retorted sharply.

Bellock said a few words and handed Brace a chunk of bread and piece of dried meat.

Mirfar smiled and said, “Our big friend says that if you don’t slow down, then you will indeed be dead.”

“The leg will be fine,” Brace said.  “I can handle the pain.  It is only temporary.”

“The good news is that our path will be much easier.  We have climbed out of the mountains, and now the land slopes down towards the northern steppes of Thell. If Kirwin and Lillimar were able to find horses for the return trip, we should be meeting up with them sometime today.”

Brace looked back at the mountains.  It was hard for him to imagine that they had made it as far as they did.  His leg was in constant pain and he couldn’t walk very fast.  Mirfar had cut a thick walking stick to help him walk.  It had taken some getting used to, but as long as they were on flat ground, he could make decent time.  But most of the past two days hadn’t been flat ground.  It had been uneven, rocky terrain.  There had been no path to follow.  The footing was treacherous with two good legs.  With only one, Brace was simply thankful to the gods that they had seen him through.

He then looked out away from the mountains.  It was different on this side.  Trees were not as abundant.  Unlike the grand forests that were pervasive throughout Karmon, Thell was mostly flat with smaller clumps of woodsy areas.  They were still up in the mountains, but they were well below the steep, rocky parts.  It looked like the entire kingdom of Thell was laid out in front of them.  They were high enough still to see for miles and miles.

Brace squinted his eyes, trying to find a break in the flat land where a city might exist.  “Where is Thellia?” he asked.

Mirfar raised an eyebrow at the question.  “You do not know?  You were to deliver a message to the king and you do know where the city is?”

“I know where it is, just not from where we are now.  I had directions through the White Mountain Pass.  Directly north, follow the first river that I came across and that would lead me directly to the city gates.”  Then he added with a slightly irritated tone, “I do not normally spend much time north of the mountains.”

Mirfar seemed to ignore the tone and answered, “We are some miles to the west of the pass.  The river that you were to follow, the Jorgan River, as we call it, meanders quite a bit.  Following the river would take you an extra day to get there.  Now, since I know exactly where the city is, I have taken us in a direction directly towards there.”  Mirfar finished by pointing directly towards their destination, a spot on the horizon a bit west of north.  His eyes following his hand, but the surprise at what he saw kept his arm suspended in air.

Brace stiffened at the same sight.  If Mirfar had not pointed it out directly, neither of them would have seen the glint of steel and the shadow of a mass of men moving in their direction.

“It is the army on the move,” Brace said softly.  If they had arrived at this spot an hour sooner, the mass of moving soldiers would have been too far away to see.  “Five miles.  Maybe a bit more,” Brace added after a moment of reflection.

“We are still quite a bit higher up than them,” Mirfar said.  He looked around.  They sky was perfectly clear.  The sun was still crawling its way up towards its noon height.  Just about perfect conditions for seeing long distances.  He had spent much of his life in the mountains and had a good handle on how far he could see.  “I believe they are much farther.  Ten miles, I’d say.”

Brace wasn’t going to argue.  The army was far enough away that he could not really see individual soldiers.  It was just a moving mass of bodies with the occasional glint of steel reflecting up to them.   “We should avoid them.”

“They may offer a quicker way back to the king so you can deliver your message,” Mirfar said.

Brace shook his head.  “I am a military man.  Have been most of my life.  They will not look kindly upon me this far north.  I fear they would treat me more as a spy than a messenger.  We better get moving before they see us.”

Mirfar picked up a sack of supplies and slung it over his shoulder.  “I agree we should get moving, but it will be another day before they would be close enough to see us.  We are but specks in the haze of the mountain to them.  Likewise, we only see them as a mass of men.”

After their short break, they moved slowly down the mountain.  The rocky terrain that had slowed them to nearly a crawl had been replaced by a rolling landscape of hills and crevices.  Brace moved as fast as the pain would allow, but still much slower than he wanted.  They had many days travel in front of them, unless they were able to find a stray horse.  Or borrow one.

Brace felt naked being so out in the open.  Trees were sparsely scattered about, offering little protection if they were to need it.  With one eye on his path, he kept his other eye on the army mass that looked like it had yet to move.  Indeed, the army was still many miles away.  But after a couple of hours of descending down the mountain, they could no longer see it.  At one point, Brace turned around to see how far they had traveled and was surprised at how tall the mountains were.  Despite his slow gait, they were making decent time.

Just as he was getting used to traveling peacefully through enemy territory, Brace thought he heard the snort of horse and froze in his tracks.  Mirfar, who had been walking slightly ahead of Brace kept walking.  Almost a full minute later, Mirfar finally realized that he was walking alone and stopped to turn around.  Brace silenced the forthcoming question with a raised finger.  He tilted his head, trying to listen for more sounds.  His eyes scanned the area.  A stream ran nearby, marked by trees along its banks.  Their water skins were still mostly full with water, so they weren’t planning on stopping to fill them, although they had discussed it some time ago.  There were other patches of trees, but none packed so tightly that a horse could hide.  His hand unconsciously fell to his empty hip.

After what seemed an eternity to Mirfar, Brace finally started walking forward, although his eyes still scanned the trees that ran along the creek.  When he reached Mirfar, he said softly.  “I think we are being watched.  I heard a horse.”

Mirfar raised an eyebrow. “I did not hear…”

The old man’s words were cut off by the crash of horses through the underbrush by the creek.  Brace spun around, falling into a defensive position with Mirfar behind him.  Five soldiers, astride dark black mounts surrounded them.  Four were clad identically in chainmail armor underneath a plain red surcoat.  Their heads were topped with simple conical helms.  All four had swords drawn and ready to use.  The fifth soldier was helmetless, but had the same plain red surcoat over his chainmail.  His hair was long and curly, unkempt and windblown from riding.  He stayed behind the other riders, keeping his distance.  He was clearly the leader.

“Hail, strangers,” the leader said with a thick accent in Brace’s native tongue.

Brace looked him up and down, and then at each of the soldiers.  They carried themselves as professionals, hands and eyes firm.

“Hello and well met!” Mirfar said as cheerfully as he could.

The lead soldier ignored the greeting and kept his attention on Brace.  “Who are you?”

“Travelers.”

“From?”

Brace nodded to the south.  “From over the mountains.”

The soldier smiled and said matter-of-factly, “Then you admit to being spies.”

“No!” Brace protested, stepping forward.  “We are travelers!”

“Seize them.”

The four helmed soldiers quickly dismounted.

“I have a message for the king!” Brace shouted.  He reached into the folds of his tunic and brought out the message with the seal of King Thorndale on it.

The five soldiers all shared a glance.  Finally, the lead soldier dismounted and strode to Brace where he grabbed the message and tore it open.

“That is for the king,” Brace protested.

“I am sure my father won’t mind me reading it.”  He flashed a wide smile.  “I am Prince Toknon.  I have, in fact, been looking for you for some time.  It seems two of your friends stumbled upon my army just the other day.”  He looked into Brace’s eyes and his smile grew.  “I know all about you, Sir Brace Hawkden.  Or should I call you spy Brace Hawkden?”

“Read it,” Brace replied firmly.  “I am no spy.”

Prince Toknon read through the message and his eyes grew wider at each line that he read.  “Well, this is most interesting.  My father and your king have been very busy the past few months.”

“The message is delivered.  If you will, please let us return,” Mirfar said meekly.  He finished with a tip of his head.

Prince Toknon dropped to a knee and ripped the paper up into small pieces.  He pulled out a flint stone and struck it several times with his dagger before he was able to get a spark.  The spark took quickly to the dry parchment that the message was written on.  In only moments, the message was gone.  He stood, watching the remnants of the message scatter in the wind.

“I am unaware of any message,” the prince said.  “It seems that this little game that my father and your king has been playing is over.  My army marches south.  We will conquer your fabled knights and then we will march upon your grand city.  And then, Karmon will be no more.  It will only be Thell.”